THE CITY OF THE SAINTSSIR RICHARD BURTONFrom “The City of the Saints and Across the Rocky Mountains to California.†Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Harper and Brothers, New York.
SIR RICHARD BURTON
From “The City of the Saints and Across the Rocky Mountains to California.†Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Harper and Brothers, New York.
Onthe road we saw for the first time a train of Mormon wagons, twenty-four in number, slowly wending their way toward the Promised Land. The “Captainâ€â€”those who fill the dignified office of guides are so designated, and once a captain always a captain is the Far-Western rule—was young Brigham Young, a nephew of the Prophet; ablondin, with yellow hair and beard, an intelligent countenance, a six-shooter by his right, and a bowie-knife by his left side. It was impossible to mistake, even through the veil of freckles and sun-burn with which a two months’ journey had invested them, the nationality of the emigrants; “British-English†was written in capital letters upon the white eyelashes and tow-colored curls of the children, and upon the sandy brown hair and staring eyes, heavy bodies, and ample extremities of the adults. One young person concealed her facial attractions under a manner of mask. I thought that perhaps she might be a sultana, reserved for the establishment of some very magnificent Mormon bashaw; but the driver, when appealed to, responded with contempt, “Guess old Briggy won’t stampede many o’ that ’ere lot!†Though thus homely in appearance, few showed any symptoms of sickness or starvation; in fact, their condition first impressed us most favorably with theexcellence of the Perpetual Emigration Funds’ traveling arrangements.
The Mormons who can afford such luxury generally purchase for the transit of the plains an emigrant’s wagon, which in the West seldom costs more than $185. They take a full week before wellen route, and endeavor to leave the Mississippi in early May, when “long forage†is plentiful upon the prairies. Those prospecting parties who are bound for California set out in March or April, feeding their animals with grain till the new grass appears; after November the road over the Sierra Nevada being almost impassable to way-worn oxen. The ground in the low parts of the Mississippi Valley becomes heavy and muddy after the first spring rains, and by starting in good time the worst parts of the country will be passed before the travel becomes very laborious. Moreover, grass soon disappears from the higher and less productive tracts; between Scott’s Bluffs and Great Salt Lake City we were seldom out of sight of starved cattle, and on one spot I counted fifteen skeletons. Travelers, however, should not push forward early, unless their animals are in good condition and are well supplied with grain; the last year’s grass is not quite useless, but cattle cannot thrive upon it as they will upon the grammas, festucas, and buffalo-clover (Trifolium reflexum) of Utah and New Mexico. The journey between St. Jo and the Mormon capital usually occupies from two to three months. The Latter-Day Saints march with a quasi-military organization. Other emigrants form companies of fifty to seventy armed men—a single wagon would be in imminent danger from rascals like the Pawnees, who, though fonder of bullying than of fighting, are ever ready to cut off a straggler—elect their “Cap.,†who holds the office only during good conduct, sign and seal themselves to certain obligations, and bind themselves to stated penalties in case of disobedience or defection. The “Prairie Traveler†strongly recommends this systematicorganization, without which, indeed, no expedition, whether emigrant, commercial, or exploratory, ought ever or in any part of the world to begin its labors; justly observing that, without it, discords and dissensions sooner or later arise which invariably result in breaking up the company.
In this train I looked to no purpose for the hand-carts with which the poorer Saints add to the toils of earthly travel a semi-devotional work of supererogation expected to win a proportionate reward in heaven.
Near the Pine-Tree Stream we met a horse-thief driving four bullocks: he was known to Macarthy, and did not look over comfortable. We had now fallen into the regular track of Mormon emigration, and saw the wayfarers in their worst plight, near the end of the journey. We passed several families, and parties of women and children trudging wearily along: most of the children were in rags or half nude, and all showed gratitude when we threw them provisions. The greater part of the men were armed, but their weapons were far more dangerous to themselves and their fellows than to the enemy. There is not on earth a race of men more ignorant of arms as a rule than the lower grades of English; becoming an emigrant, the mechanic hears that it may be necessary to beat off Indians, so he buys the first old fire-arm he sees, and probably does damage with it. Only last night a father crossed Green River to beg for a piece of cloth; it was intended to shroud the body of his child, which during the evening had been accidentally shot, and the station people seemed to think nothing of the accident, as if it were of daily recurrence. I was told of three, more or less severe, that happened in the course of a month. The Western Americans, who are mostly accustomed to the use of weapons, look upon these awkwardnesses with a profound contempt. We were now in a region of graves, and their presence in this wild was not a little suggestive.
Presently we entered a valley in which green grass, low and dense willows, and small but shady trees, an unusually vigorous vegetation, refreshed, as though with living water, our eyes, parched and dazed by the burning glare. Stock strayed over the pasture, and a few Indian tents rose at the farther side; the view was probablypas grand chose, but we thought it splendidly beautiful. At midday we reached Ham’s Fork, the northwestern influent of Green River, and there we found a station. The pleasant little stream is called by the Indians Turugempa, the “Blackfoot Water.â€
Again we advanced. The air was like the breath of a furnace; the sun was a blaze of fire—accounting, by-the-by, for the fact that the human nose in these parts seems invariably to become cherry-red—all the nullahs were dried up, and the dust-pillars and mirage were the only moving objects on the plain. Three times we forded Black’s Fork, and then debouched once more upon a long flat. The ground was scattered over with pebbles of granite, obsidian, flint, and white, yellow, and smoky quartz, all water-rolled. After twelve miles we passed Church Butte, one of many curious formations lying to the left hand or south of the road. This isolated mass of still clay has been cut and ground by wind and rain into folds and hollow channels which from a distance perfectly simulate the pillars, groins, and massive buttresses of a ruinous Gothic cathedral. The foundation is level, except where masses have been swept down by the rain, and not a blade of grass grows upon any part. An architect of genius might profitably study this work of Nature: upon that subject, however, I shall presently have more to say. The Butte is highly interesting in a geological point of view; it shows the elevation of the adjoining plains in past ages, before partial deluges and the rains of centuries had effected the great work of degradation.
Again we sighted the pretty valley of Black’s Fork, whosecool clear stream flowed merrily over its pebbly bed. The road was now populous with Mormon emigrants; some had good teams, others hand-carts, which looked like a cross between a wheel-barrow and a tax-cart. There was nothing repugnant in the demeanor of the party; they had been civilized by traveling, and the younger women, who walked together and apart from the men, were not too surly to exchange a greeting. The excessive barrenness of the land presently diminished; gentian and other odoriferous herbs appeared, and the greasewood, which somewhat reminded me of the Sindhian camel-thorn, was of a lighter green than elsewhere, and presented a favorable contrast with the dull glaucous hues of the eternal prairie sage. We passed a dwarf copse so strewed with the bones of cattle as to excite our astonishment: Macarthy told us that it was the place where the 2d Dragoons encamped in 1857, and lost a number of their horses by cold and starvation. The wolves and coyotes seemed to have retained a predilection for the spot; we saw troops of them in their favorite “locationâ€â€”the crest of some little rise, whence they could keep a sharp look-out upon any likely addition to their scanty larder.
An American artist might extract from such scenery as Church Butte and Echo Kanyon a system of architecture as original and national as Egypt ever borrowed from her sandstone ledges, or the North of Europe from the solemn depths of her fir forests. But Art does not at present exist in America; as among their forefathers farther east, of artists they have plenty, of Art nothing.
After a few minutes’ delay to stand and gaze, we resumed the foot-path way, while the mail-wagon, with wheels rough-locked, descended what appeared to be an impracticable slope. The summit of the Pass was well-nigh cleared of timber; the woodman’s song informed us that the evil work was still going on, and that we are nearly approaching a large settlement. Thus stripped of their protecting fringes, the mountains are exposed to the heat of summer,that sends forth countless swarms of devastating crickets, grasshoppers, and blue-worms; and to the wintry cold, that piles up, four to six feet high—the mountain-men speak of thirty and forty—the snows drifted by the unbroken force of the winds. The Pass from November to February can be traversed by nothing heavier than “sleighs,†and during the snow-storms even these are stopped. Falling into the gorge of Big Kanyon Creek, after a total of twelve hard miles from Bauchmin’s Fork, we reached at 11:30 the station that bears the name of the water near which it is built. We were received by the wife of the proprietor, who was absent at the time of our arrival; and half stifled by the thick dust and the sun, which had raised the glass to 103°, we enjoyed copious draughts—tant soit peuqualified—of the cool but rather hard water that trickled down the hill into a trough by the house side. Presently the station-master, springing from his light “sulky,†entered, and was formally introduced to us by Mr. Macarthy as Mr. Ephe Hanks. I had often heard of this individual as one of the old triumvirate of Mormon desperadoes, the other two being Orrin Porter Rockwell and Bill Hickman—as the leader of the dreaded Danite band, and, in short, as a model ruffian. The ear often teaches the eye to form its pictures: I had eliminated a kind of mental sketch of those assassin faces which one sees on the Apennines and Pyrenees, and was struck by what met the eye of sense. The “vile villain,†as he has been called by anti-Mormon writers, who verily do not try toménagertheir epithets, was a middle-sized, light-haired, good-looking man, with regular features, a pleasant and humorous countenance, and the manly manner of his early sailor life, touched with the rough cordiality of the mountaineer. “Frank as a bear-hunter†is a proverb in these lands. He had, like the rest of the triumvirate, and like most men (Anglo-Americans) of desperate courage and fiery, excitable temper, a clear, pale blue eye, verging upon gray, and looking asif it wanted nothing better than to light up, together with a cool and quiet glance that seemed to shun neither friend nor foe.
The terrible Ephe began with a facetious allusion to all our new dangers under the roof of a Danite, to which, in similar strain, I made answer that Danite or Damnite was pretty much the same to me. After dining, we proceeded to make trial of the air-cane, to which he took, as I could see by the way he handled it, and by the nod with which he acknowledged the observation, “almighty convenient sometimes not to make a noise, Mister,†a great fancy. He asked me whether I had a mind to “have a slap†at his namesake,[16]an offer which was gratefully accepted, under the promise that “cuffy†should previously be marked down so as to save a long ride and a troublesome trudge over the mountains. His battery of “kill-b’ars†was heavy and in good order, so that on this score there would have been no trouble, and the only tool he bade me bring was a Colt’s revolver, dragoon size. He told me that he was likely to be in England next year, when he had set the “ole woman†to her work. I suppose my look was somewhat puzzled, for Mrs. Dana graciously explained that every Western wife, even when still, as Mrs. Ephe was, in her teens, commands that venerable title, venerable, though somehow not generally coveted.
From Big Kanyon Creek Station to the city, the driver “reckoned,†was a distance of seventeen miles. We waited till the bright and glaring day had somewhat burned itself out; at noon heavy clouds came up from the south and southwest, casting a grateful shade and shedding a few drops of rain. After taking friendly leave of the “Danite†chief—whose cordiality of manner had prepossessed me strongly in his favor—we entered the mail-wagon, andprepared ourselves for the finale over the westernmost ridge of the stern Wasach.
After advancing about 1.50 mile over the bench ground, the city by slow degrees broke upon our sight. It showed, one may readily believe, to special advantage after the succession of Indian lodges, Canadian ranchos, and log-hut mail-stations of the prairies and the mountains. The site has been admirably chosen for drainage and irrigation—so well, indeed, that a “Deus ex machinâ†must be brought to account for it.[17]About two miles north, and overlooking the settlements from a height of 400 feet, a detached cone, called Ensign Peak or Ensign Mount, rises at the end of a chain which, projected westward from the main range of the heights, overhangs and shelters the northeastern corner of the valley. Upon this “big toe of the Wasach range,†as it is called by a local writer, the spirit of the martyred prophet, Mr. Joseph Smith, appeared to his successor, Mr. Brigham Young, and pointed out to him the position of the New Temple, which, after Zion had “got up into the high mountain,†was to console the Saints for the loss of Nauvoo the Beautiful. The city—it is about two miles broad—runs parallel with the right bank of the Jordan, which forms its western limit. It is twelve to fifteen miles distant from the western range, ten from the debouchure of the river, and eight to nine from the nearest point of the lake—a respectful distance, which is not the least of the position’s merits. It occupies the rolling brow of a slight decline at the western base of the Wasach—infact, the lower, but not the lowest level of the eastern valley-bench; it has thus a compound slope from north to south, on the line of its water supplies, and from east to west, thus enabling it to drain off into the river.
The city revealed itself, as we approached, from behind its screen, the inclined terraces of the upper table-land, and at last it lay stretched before us as upon a map. The fields were large and numerous, but the Saints have too many and various occupations to keep them, Moravian-like, neat and trim; weeds overspread the ground; often the wild sunflower-tops outnumbered the heads of maize. The fruit had suffered from an unusually nipping frost in May; the peach-trees were barren; the vines bore no produce; only a few good apples were in Mr. Brigham Young’s garden, and the watermelons were poor, yellow, and tasteless, like the African. On the other hand, potatoes, onions, cabbages, and cucumbers were good and plentiful, the tomato was ripening everywhere, fat full-eared wheat rose in stacks, and crops of excellent hay were scattered about near the houses. The people came to their doors to see the mail-coach, as if it were the “Derby dilly†of old, go by. I could not but be struck by the modified English appearance of the colony, and by the prodigious numbers of the white-headed children.
Presently we debouched upon the main thoroughfare, the centre of population and business, where the houses of the principal Mormon dignitaries and the stores of the Gentile merchants combine to form the city’s only street which can be properly so called. It is, indeed, both street and market, for, curious to say, New Zion has not yet built for herself a bazar or market-place. Nearly opposite the Post Office, in a block on the eastern side, with a long veranda, supported by trimmed and painted posts, was a two-storied, pent-roofed building, whose sign-board, swinging to a tall, gibbet-like flagstaff, dressed for the occasion, announced it to be the Salt Lake House, the principal if not the onlyestablishment of the kind in New Zion. In the Far West, one learns not to expect much of the hostelry;[18]I had not seen aught so grand for many a day. Its depth is greater than its frontage, and behind it, secured by aporte cochère, is a large yard for corralling cattle. A rough-looking crowd of drivers, drivers’ friends, and idlers, almost every man openly armed with revolver and bowie-knife, gathered round the doorway to greet Jim, and “prospect†the “new lotâ€; and the host came out to assist us in transporting our scattered effects. We looked vainly for a bar on the ground floor; a bureau for registering names was there, but (temperance, in public at least, being the order of the day) the usual tempting array of bottles and decanters was not forthcoming; up stairs we found a Gentile ball-room, a tolerably furnished sitting-room, and bedchambers, apparently made out of a single apartment by partitions too thin to be strictly agreeable. The household had its deficiencies; blacking, for instance, had run out, and servants could not be engaged till the expected arrival of the hand-cart train. However, the proprietor, Mr. Townsend, a Mormon, from the State of Maine—when expelled from Nauvoo, he had parted with land, house, and furniture for $50—who had married an Englishwoman, was in the highest degree civil and obliging, and he attended personally to our wants, offered his wife’s services to Mrs. Dana, and put us all in the best of humors, despite the closeness of the atmosphere, the sadness ever attending one’s first entrance into a new place, the swarms of “emigration fliesâ€â€”so called because they appear in September with the emigrants, and, after living for a month, die off with the first snow—and a certain populousness of bedstead, concerning which the less said the better. Such, gentle reader, are the results of myfirst glance at Zion on the tops of the mountains, in the Holy City of the Far West.
Our journey had occupied nineteen days, from the 7th to the 25th of August, both included; and in that time we had accomplished not less than 1136 statute miles.
Walking in a northward direction up Main, otherwise called Whisky Street, we could not but observe the “magnificent distances†of the settlement, which, containing 9000-12,000 souls, covers an area of three miles. This broadway is 132 feet wide, including the side-walks, which are each twenty, and, like the rest of the principal avenues, is planted with locust and other trees. There are twenty or twenty-one wards or cantons, numbered from the S.E. “boustrophedon†to the N.W. corner. They have a common fence and a bishop apiece. They are called after the creeks, trees, people, or positions, as Mill-Creek Ward, Little Cotton-wood, Denmark, and South Ward. Every ward contains about nine blocks, each of which is forty rods square. The area of ten acres is divided into four to eight lots, of two and a half to one and a quarter acres each, 264 feet by 132. A city ordinance places the houses twenty feet behind the front line of the lot, leaving an intermediate place for shrubbery or trees. This rule, however, is not observed in Main Street.
The streets are named from their direction to the Temple Block. Thus Main Street is East Temple Street No. 1; that behind it is State Road, or East Temple Street 2, and so forth, the ward being also generally specified. Temple Block is also the point to which latitude and longitude are referred. It lies in N. lat. 40° 45′ 44″, W. long. (G.) 112° 6′ 8″, and 4300 feet above sea level.
Main Street is rapidly becoming crowded. The western block, opposite the hotel, contains about twenty houses of irregular shape and size. The buildings are intended to supply the principal wants of a far-Western settlement, as bakery, butchery, and blacksmithery, hardware andcrockery, paint and whip warehouse, a “fashionable tailorâ€â€”and “fashionable†in one point, that his works are more expensive than Poole’s[19]—shoe-stores, tannery and curriery; the Pantechnicon, on a more pretentious style than its neighbors, kept by Mr. Gilbert Clements, Irishman and orator; dry-goods, groceries, liquors, and furniture shops, Walker’s agency, and a kind of restaurant for ice-cream, a luxury which costs 25 cents a glass; saddlers, dealers in “food, flour, and provisions,†hats, shoes, clothing, sash laths, shingles, timber, copper, tin, crockery-ware, carpenters’ tools, and mouse-traps.... The Tabernacle is 126 feet long from N. to S., and 64 wide from E. to W.; its interior, ceilinged with an elliptical arch—the width being its span—can accommodate 2000-3000 souls. It urgently requires enlarging. Over the entrances at the gable ends, which open to the N. and S., is a wood-work representing the sun, with his usual coiffure of yellow beams, like a Somali’s wig, or the symbol of the Persian empire. The roof is of shingles: it shelters under its projecting eaves a whole colony of swallows, and there are four chimneys—a number insufficient for warmth at one season, or for ventilation at the other. The speaker or preacher stands on the west side of the building, which is reserved for the three highest dignities, viz., the First Presidency, the “Twelve†(Apostles), and the President of the State of Zion: distinguished strangers are also admitted. Of late, as in the old Quaker meeting-houses at Philadelphia, the brethren in the Tabernacle have been separated from the “sistern,†who sit on the side opposite the preacher’s left; and, according to Gentiles, it is proposed to separate the Christians from the Faithful, that the “goats†may no longer mingle with the sheep.
Immediately north of the Tabernacle is the Bowery—in early spring a canopy of green leafy branches, which are left to wither with the year, supported on wooden posts.
In the extreme northwest angle of the block is the Endowment, here pronouncedOn-dewment House, separated from the Tabernacle by a high wooden paling. The building, of which I made a pen and ink sketch from the west, is of adobe, with a pent roof and four windows, one blocked up: the central and higher portion is flanked by two wings, smaller erections of the same shape. The Endowment House is the place of great medicine, and all appertaining to it is carefully concealed from Gentile eyes and ears: the result is that human sacrifices are said to be performed within its walls. Mrs. Smith and Mr. Hyde have described the mysterious rites performed within these humble walls, but, for reasons given before, there is reason to doubt the truth of their descriptions; such orgies as they describe could not coexist with the respectability which is the law of the land. M. Remy has detailed the programme with all the exactitude of an eye-witness, which he was not. The public declare that the ceremonies consist of some show, which in the Middle Ages would be called a comedy or mystery—possibly Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained—and connect it with the working of a mason’s lodge. The respectable Judge Phelps, because supposed to take the place of the Father of Sin when tempting Adam and Eve, is popularly known as “the Devil.†The two small wings are said to contain fonts for the two sexes, where baptism by total immersion is performed. According to Gentiles, the ceremony occupies eleven or twelve hours. The neophyte, after bathing, is anointed with oil, and dressed in clean white cotton garments, cap and shirt, of which the latter is rarely removed—Dr. Richards saved his life at the Carthage massacre by wearing it—and a small square masonic apron, with worked or painted fig-leaves: he receives a new name and a distinguishing grip, and is bound to secrecy by dreadful oaths. Moreover, it is said that, as in all such societies, there are several successive degrees, all of which are not laid open to initiation till the Templeshall be finished. But—as every mason knows—the “red-hot poker†and other ideas concerning masonic institutions have prevailed when juster disclosures have been rejected. Similarly in the Mormonic mystery, it is highly probable that, in consequence of the conscientious reserve of the people upon a subject which it would be indelicate to broach, the veriest fancies have taken the deepest root.
After dining with the governor, we sat under the stoop enjoying, as we might in India, the cool of the evening. Several visitors dropped in, among them Mr. and Mrs. Stenhouse. He—Elder T. B. H. Stenhouse—is a Scotchman by birth, and has passed through the usual stages of neophyte (larva), missionary (pupa), and elder or fully-developed Saint (imago). Madame was from Jersey, spoke excellent French, talked English without nasalization or cantalenation, and showed a highly cultivated mind. She had traveled with her husband on a propagandist tour to Switzerland and Italy, where, as president of the missions for three years, he was a “diligent and faithful laborer in the great work of the last dispensation.â€
He became a Saint in 1846, at the age of 21; lived the usual life of poverty and privation, founded the Southampton Conference, converted a lawyer among other great achievements, and propagated the Faith successfully in Scotland as in England. The conversation turned—somehow in Great Salt Lake City it generally does—upon polygamy, or rather plurality, which here is the polite word, and for the first time I heard that phase of the family tie sensibly, nay, learnedly advocated on religious grounds by fair lips. Mr. Stenhouse kindly offered to accompany me on the morrow, as the first hand-cart train was expected to enter, and to point out what might be interesting. I saw Elder and High-Priest Stenhouse almost every day during my stay at Great Salt Lake City, and found in his society both pleasure and profit. We of course avoided those mysterious points, into which, as an outsider, I had no right to enter; the elderwas communicative enough upon all others, and freely gave me leave to use his information. The reader, however, will kindly bear in mind that, being a strict Mormon, Mr. Stenhouse could enlighten me only upon one side of the subject; his statements were therefore carefully referred to the “other partâ€; moreover, as he could never see any but the perfections of his system, the blame of having pointed out what I deem its imperfections is not to be charged upon him. His power of faith struck me much. I had once asked him what became of the Mormon Tables of the Law, the Golden Plates which, according to the Gentiles, were removed by an angel after they had done their work. He replied that he knew not; that his belief was independent of all such accidents; that Mormonism is and must be true to the exclusion of all other systems. I saw before me an instance how the brain or mind of man can, by mere force of habit and application, imbue itself with any idea.
Long after dark I walked home alone. There were no lamps in any but Main Street, yet the city is as safe as at St. James’s Square, London. There are perhaps not more than twenty-five or thirty constables or policemen in the whole place, under their captain, a Scotchman, Mr. Sharp, “by name as well as nature soâ€; and the guard on public works is merely nominal. Its excellent order must be referred to the perfect system of private police, resulting from the constitution of Mormon society, which in this point resembles the caste system of Hindooism. There is no secret from the head of the Church and State; everything, from the highest to the lowest detail of private and public life, must be brought to the ear and submitted to the judgment of the father-confessor-in-chief. Gentiles often declare that the Prophet is acquainted with their every word half an hour after it is spoken; and from certain indices, into which I hardly need enter, my opinion is that, allowing something for exaggeration, they are not very far wrong.In London and Paris the foreigner is subjected, though perhaps he may not know it, to the same surveillance, and till lately his letters were liable to be opened at the Post Office. We cannot, then, wonder that at Great Salt Lake City, a stranger, before proving himself at least to be harmless, should begin by being an object of suspicion.
Mr. Stenhouse circulated freely among the crowd, and introduced me to many whose names I do not remember; in almost every case the introduction was followed by some invitation. He now exchanged a word with this “brother,†then a few sentences with that “sister,†carefully suppressing the Mr. and Madam of the Eastern States. The fraternal address gives a patriarchal and somewhat Oriental flavor to Mormon converse; like other things, however, it is apt to run into extremes. If a boy in the streets be asked, “What’s your name?†he will reply—if he condescends to do so—“I’m brother such-and-such’s son.†In order to distinguish children of different mothers, it is usual to prefix the maternal to the paternal parent’s name, suppressing the given or Christian name of monogamic lands. Thus, for instance, my sons by Miss Brown, Miss Jones, and Miss Robinson, would call themselves Brother Brown Burton, Brother Jones Burton, and so on. The Saints—even the highest dignitaries—waive the Reverend; and the ridiculous Esquire, that “title much in use among vulgar people,†which in Old and New England applies to everybody, gentle or simple, has not yet extended to Great Salt Lake City. The Mormon pontiff and the eminences around him are simply Brother or Mister—they have the substance, and they disdain the shadow of power.En revanche, among the crowd there are as many colonels and majors—about ten being the proportion to one captain—as in the days when Mrs. Trollope set the Mississippi on fire. Sister is applied to women of all ages, thus avoiding the difficulty of addressing a dowager, as in the Eastern States, Madam, in contradistinction to Mrs., her daughter-in-law,or, what is worse, of calling her after the English way, old Mrs. A., or,Scotticè, Mrs. A. senior.
The dress of the fair sex has, I observed, already become peculiar. The article called in Cornwall a “gowk,†in other parts of England a “cottage bonnet,†and in the United States a “sun-bonnet,†is here universally used, with the difference, however that the Mormons provide it with a long thick veil behind, which acts like a cape or shawl. A loose jacket and a petticoat, mostly of calico or of some inexpensive stuff, compose thetout visible. The wealthier affect silks, especially black. The merchants are careful to keep on hand a large stock of fancy goods, and millinery.
About noon, after a preliminary visit to Mr. Gilbert—and a visit in these lands always entails a certain amount of “smilingâ€â€”I met Governor Cumming in Main Street, and we proceeded together to our visit to the Prophet. After a slight scrutiny we passed the guard—which is dressed in plain clothes, and to the eye unarmed—and walking down the veranda, entered the Prophet’s private office. Several people who were sitting there rose at Mr. Cumming’s entrance. At a few words of introduction, Mr. Brigham Young advanced, shook hands with complete simplicity of manner, asked me to be seated on a sofa at one side of the room, and presented me to those present.
Under ordinary circumstances it would be unfair in a visitor to draw the portrait of one visited. But this is no common case. I have violated no rites of hospitality. Mr. Brigham Young is a “seer, revelator, and prophet, having all the gifts of God which he bestows upon the Head of the Churchâ€: his memoirs, lithographs, photographs, and portraits have been published again and again; I add but one more likeness; and, finally, I have nothing to say except in his favor.
The Prophet was born at Whittingham, Vermont, on the 1st of June, 1801; he was consequently, in 1860, fifty-nine years of age; he looks about forty-five.La célébrité vieillit—I had expected to see a venerable-looking old man. Scarcely a gray thread appears in his hair, which is parted on the side, light colored, rather thick, and reaches below the ears with a half curl. He formerly wore it long, after the Western style; now it is cut level with the ear-lobes. The forehead is somewhat narrow, the eyebrows are thin, the eyes between gray and blue, with a calm, composed, and somewhat reserved expression: a slight droop in the left lid made me think that he had suffered from paralysis; I afterward heard that the ptosis is the result of a neuralgia which has long tormented him. For this reason he usually covers his head, except in his own house or in the Tabernacle. Mrs. Ward, who is followed by the “Revue des Deux-Mondes,†therefore errs again in asserting that “his Mormon majesty never removes his hat in public.†The nose, which is fine and somewhat sharp-pointed, is bent a little to the left. The lips are close like the New Englander’s, and the teeth, especially those of the under jaw, are imperfect. The cheeks are rather fleshy, and the line between the alæ of the nose and the mouth is broken; the chin is somewhat peaked, and the face clean-shaven, except under the jaws, where the beard is allowed to grow. The hands are well made, and not disfigured by rings. The figure is somewhat large, broad-shouldered, and stooping a little when standing.
The Prophet’s dress was neat and plain as a Quaker’s, all gray homespun except the cravat and waistcoat. His coat was of antique cut, and, like the pantaloons, baggy, and the buttons were black. A neck-tie of dark silk, with a large bow, was loosely passed round a starchless collar, which turned down of its own accord. The waistcoat was of black satin—once an article of almost national dress—single-breasted, and buttoned nearly to the neck, and aplain gold chain was passed into the pocket. The boots were Wellingtons, apparently of American make.
Altogether the Prophet’s appearance was that of a gentleman farmer in New England—in fact, such as he is: his father was an agriculturist and revolutionary soldier, who settled “down East.†He is a well-preserved man; a fact which some attribute to his habit of sleeping as the Citizen Proudhon so strongly advises, in solitude. His manner is at once affable and impressive, simple and courteous: his want of pretension contrasts favorably with certain pseudo-prophets that I have seen, each and every one of whom holds himself to be a “Logos,†without other claim save a semi-maniacal self-esteem. He shows no signs of dogmatism, bigotry, or fanaticism, and never once entered—with me at least—upon the subject of religion. He impresses a stranger with a certain sense of power; his followers are, of course, wholly fascinated by his superior strength of brain. It is commonly said there is only one chief in Great Salt Lake City, and that is “Brigham.†His temper is even and placid; his manner is cold—in fact, like his face, somewhat bloodless; but he is neither morose nor methodistic, and, where occasion requires, he can use all the weapons of ridicule to direful effect, and “speak a bit of his mind†in a style which no one forgets. He often reproves his erring followers in purposely violent language, making the terrors of a scolding the punishment in lieu of hanging for a stolen horse or cow. His powers of observation are intuitively strong, and his friends declare him to be gifted with an excellent memory and a perfect judgment of character. If he dislikes a stranger at the first interview, he never sees him again. Of his temperance and sobriety there is but one opinion. His life is ascetic: his favorite food is baked potatoes with a little buttermilk, and his drink water; he disapproves, as do all strict Mormons, of spirituous liquors, and never touches anything stronger than a glass of thin Lager-bier; moreover,he abstains from tobacco. Mr. Hyde has accused him of habitual intemperance: he is, as his appearance shows, rather disposed to abstinence than to the reverse. Of his education I cannot speak: “men, not books—deeds, not words,†has ever been his motto; he probably has, as Mr. Randolph said of Mr. Johnston, “a mind uncorrupted by books.†In the only discourse which I heard him deliver, he pronounced impĕtus, impētus. Yet he converses with ease and correctness, has neither snuffle nor pompousness, and speaks as an authority upon certain subjects, such as agriculture and stock-breeding. He assumes no airs of extra sanctimoniousness, and has the plain, simple manners of honesty. His followers deem him an angel of light, his foes a goblin damned: he is, I presume, neither one nor the other. I cannot pronounce about his scrupulousness: all the world over, the sincerest religious belief and the practice of devotion are sometimes compatible not only with the most disorderly life, but with the most terrible crimes; for mankind mostly believes that
“Il est avec le ciel des accommodements.â€
He has been called hypocrite, swindler, forger, murderer. No one looks it less. The best authorities—from those who accuse Mr. Joseph Smith of the most heartless deception, to those who believe that he began as an impostor and ended as a prophet—find in Mr. Brigham Young “an earnest, obstinate egotistic enthusiasm, fanned by persecution and inflamed by bloodshed.†He is the St. Paul of the new Dispensation: true and sincere, he gave point, and energy, and consistency to the somewhat disjointed turbulent, and unforeseeing fanaticism of Mr. Joseph Smith; and if he has not been able to create, he has shown himself great in controlling circumstances. Finally, there is a total absence of pretension in his manner, and he has been so long used to power that he cares nothing for its display.The arts by which he rules the heterogeneous mass of conflicting elements are indomitable will, profound secrecy, and uncommon astuteness.
Such is His Excellency President Brigham Young, “painter and glazierâ€â€”his earliest craft—prophet, revelator, translator, and seer; the man who is revered as king or kaiser, pope or pontiff never was; who, like the Old Man of the Mountain, by holding up his hand could cause the death of any one within his reach; who, governing as well as reigning, long stood up to fight with the sword of the Lord, and with his few hundred guerrillas, against the then mighty power of the United States; who has outwitted all diplomacy opposed to him; and, finally, who made a treaty of peace with the President of the Great Republic as though he had wielded the combined power of France, Russia, and England.
Remembering the frequent query, “What shall be done with the Mormons?†I often asked the Saints, Who will or can succeed Mr. Brigham Young? No one knows, and no one cares. They reply, with a singular disdain for the usual course of history, with a perfect faith that their Cromwell will know no Richard as his successor, that, as when the crisis came the Lord raised up in him, then unknown and little valued, a fitting successor to Mr. Joseph Smith—of whom, by-the-by, they now speak with a respectful reverentialsotto voce, as Christians name the Founder of their faith—so, when the time for deciding the succession shall arrive, the chosen Saints will not be left without a suitable leader.
The conversation, which lasted about an hour, ended by the Prophet asking me the line of my last African exploration, and whether it was the same country traversed by Dr. Livingstone. I replied that it was about ten degrees north of the Zambezi. Mr. A. Carrington rose to point out the place upon a map which hung against the wall, and placed his finger too near the equator, when Mr. Brigham Youngsaid, “A little lower down.†There are many educated men in England who could not have corrected the mistake as well: witness the “London Review,†in which the gentleman who “does the geographyâ€â€”not having the fear of a certain society in Whitehall Place before his eyes—confounds, in all the pomp of criticism upon the said exploration, lakes which are not less than 200 miles apart.
When conversation began to flag, we rose up, shook hands, as is the custom here, all round, and took leave. The first impression left upon my mind by this shortséance, and it was subsequently confirmed, was, that the Prophet is no common man, and that he has none of the weakness and vanity which characterize the common uncommon man. A desultory conversation cannot be expected to draw out a master spirit, but a truly distinguished character exercises most often an instinctive—some would call it a mesmeric—effect upon those who come in contact with it; and as we hate or despise at first sight, and love or like at first sight, so Nature teaches us at first sight what to respect. It is observable that, although every Gentile writer has represented Mr. Joseph Smith as a heartless impostor, few have ventured to apply the term to Mr. Brigham Young. I also remarked an instance of the veneration shown by his followers, whose affection for him is equaled only by the confidence with which they intrust to him their dearest interests in this world and in the next. After my visit many congratulated me, as would the followers of the Tien Wong, or heavenly King, upon having at last seen what they consider “a per se†the most remarkable man in the world.
I was unwilling to add to the number of those who had annoyed the Prophet by domestic allusions, and therefore have no direct knowledge of the extent to which he carries polygamy; some Gentiles allow him seventeen, others thirty-six, out of a household of seventy members; others an indefinite number of wives scattered through the different settlements. Of these, doubtless, many are but wives byname, such, for instance, as the widows of the late Prophet; and others are married more for the purpose of building up for themselves spiritual kingdoms than for the normal purpose of matrimony. I should judge the Prophet’s progeny to be numerous from the following circumstance: On one occasion, when standing with him on the belvidere, my eye fell upon a new erection: it could be compared externally to nothing but an English gentleman’s hunting stables, with their little clock-tower, and I asked him what it was intended for. “A private school for my children,†he replied, “directed by Brother E. B. Kelsey.†The harem is said to have cost $30,000.
On the extreme west of this block, backed by a pound for estrays, which is no longer used, lies the Tithing House and Deserét Store, a long, narrow, upper-storied building, with cellars, store-rooms, receiving-rooms, pay-rooms, and writing offices. At this time of the year it chiefly contains linseed, and rags for paper-making; after the harvest it is well stuffed with grains and cereals, which are taken instead of money payment. There is nothing more unpopular among the American Gentiles, or, indeed, more unintelligible to them, than these Mosaic tithes, which the English converts pay, from habit, without a murmur. They serve for scandalous insinuations, viz., that the chiefs are leeches that draw the people’s golden blood; that the imposts are compulsory, and that they are embezzled and peculated by the principal dignitaries. I have reason to believe that the contrary is the case. The tithes which are paid into the “Treasury of the Lord†upon the property of a Saint on profession, and afterward upon his annual income, or his time, or by substitute, are wholly voluntary. It sometimes happens that a man casts his all into the bosom of the Church; in this case the all is not refused, but—may I ask—by what Church body, Islamitic, Christian, or pagan, would it be? If the Prophet takes anything from the Tithing House, he pays for it like other men. The writersreceive stipends like other writers, and no more; of course, if any one—clerk or lawyer—wishes to do the business of the Church gratis, he is graciously allowed to.
I was eager to attend the services at the Tabernacle on my first Sunday in Zion and found it, as I expected, overcrowded. All wore their hats till the address began, and then all uncovered. By my side was the face of a blear-eyed English servant-girl;en revanchein front was a charming American mother and child: she had, what I have remarked in Mormon meetings at Saville House and other places in Europe, an unusual development of the organ which phrenologists call veneration. I did not see any Bloomers “displaying a serviceable pair of brogues,†or “pictures of Grant Thorburn in petticoats.†There were a few specimens of the “Yankee woman,†formerly wondrous grim, with a shrewd, thrifty gray eye, at once cold and eager, angular in body and mind, tall, bony, and square-shouldered, now softened and humanized by transplantation and transposition to her proper place. The number of old people astonished me; half a dozen were sitting on the same bench; these broken-down men and decrepit crones had come to lay their bones in the Holy City; their presence speaks equally well for their faith and for the kind-heartedness of those who had brought the encumbrance. I remarked some Gentiles in the Bowery; many, however, do not care to risk what they may hear there touching themselves.
At 10 A. M. the meeting opened with a spiritual song. Then Mr. Wallace—a civilized-looking man lately returned from foreign travel—being called upon by the presiding elder for the day, opened the meeting with prayer, of which the two short-hand writers in the tribune proceeded to take notes. The matter, as is generally the case with returnedmissionaries delivering their budget, was good; the manner was somewhat Hibernian; the “valleys of the mountainsâ€â€”a stock phrase, appeared and reappeared like the speechifying Patlander’s eternal “emerald green hills and beautiful pretty valleys.†He ended by imploring a blessing upon the (Mormon) President, and all those in authority; Gentiles of course were included. The conclusion was an amen, in which all hands joined: it reminded me of the historical practice of “humming†in the seventeenth century, which caused the universities to be called “Hum et Hissimi auditores.â€
Next arose Bishop Abraham O. Smoot, second mayor of Zion, and successor to the late Jedediah M. Grant, who began with “Brethering,†and proceeded at first in a low and methody tone of voice, “hardly audible in the gallery,†to praise the Saints, and to pitch into the apostates. His delivery was by no means fluent, even when he warmed. He made undue use of the regular Wesleyan organ—the nose; but he appeared to speak excellent sense in execrable English. He recalled past persecutions without over-asperity, and promised future prosperity without over-prophecy. As he was in the midst of an allusion to the President, entered Mr. Brigham Young, and all turned their faces, even the old lady—who, dear soul! from Hanover Square to far San Francisco, placidly reposes through the discourse.
The Prophet was dressed, as usual, in gray homespun and homewoven: he wore, like most of the elders, a tall, steeple-crowned straw hat, with a broad black ribbon, and he had the rare refinement of black kid gloves. He entered the tribune covered and sat down, apparently greeting those near him. A man in a fit was carried out pumpward. Bishop Smoot concluded with informing us that we should live for God. Another hymn was sung. Then a great silence, which told us that something was about to happen:thatold man held his cough;thatold lady awoke with a start;thatchild ceased to squall. Mr. Brigham Young removedhis hat, advanced to the end of the tribune, expectorated stooping over the spittoon, which was concealed from sight by the boarding, restored the balance of fluid by a glass of water from a well-filled decanter on the stand, and, leaning slightly forward upon both hands propped on the green baize of the tribune, addressed his followers.
The discourse began slowly; word crept titubantly after word, and the opening phrases were hardly audible; but as the orator warmed, his voice rose high and sonorous, and a fluency so remarkable succeeded falter and hesitation, that—although the phenomenon is not rare in strong speakers—the latter seemed almost to have been a work of art. The manner was pleasing and animated, and the matter fluent, impromptu, and well turned, spoken rather than preached: if it had a fault it was rather rambling and unconnected. Of course, colloquialisms of all kinds were introduced, such as “he become,†“for you and I,†and so forth. The gestures were easy and rounded, not without a certain grace, though evidently untaught; one, however, must be excepted, namely, that of raising and shaking the forefinger; this is often done in the Eastern States, but the rest of the world over it is considered threatening and bullying. The address was long. God is a mechanic. Mormonism is a great fact. Religion had made him (the speaker) the happiest of men. He was ready to dance like a Shaker. At this sentence the Prophet, who is a good mimic, and has much of the old New English quaint humor, raised his right arm, and gave, to the amusement of the congregation, a droll imitation of Anne Lee’s followers. The Gentiles had sent an army to lay waste Zion, and what had they done? Why hung one of their own tribe! and that, too, on the Lord’s day![20]The Saints have a glorious destinybefore them, and their morality is remarkable as the beauty of the Promised Land: the soft breeze blowing over the Bowery, and the glorious sunshine outside, made the allusion highly appropriate. The Lamanites, or Indians, are a religious people. All races know a God and may be saved. After a somewhat lengthy string of sentences concerning the great tribulation coming on earth—it has been coming for the last 1800 years—he concluded with good wishes to visitors and Gentiles generally, with a solemn blessing upon the President of the United States, the territorial governor, and all such as be in authority over us, and, with an amen which was loudly re-echoed by all around, he restored his hat and resumed his seat.
Having heard much of the practical good sense which characterizes the Prophet’s discourse, I was somewhat disappointed: probably the occasion had not been propitious. During the discourse, a Saint, in whose family some accident had occurred, was called out, but the accident failed to affect the riveted attention of the audience.
Then arose Mr. Heber C. Kimball, the second President. He is the model of a Methodist, a tall and powerful man, a “gentleman in black,†with small, dark, piercing eyes, and clean-shaven blue face. He affects the Boanerges style, and does not at times disdain the part of Thersites: from a certain dislike to the Nonconformist rant and whine, he prefers an every-day manner of speech, which savors rather of familiarity than of reverence. The people look more amused when he speaks than when others harangue them, and they laugh readily, as almost all crowds will, at the thinnest phantom of a joke. Mr. Kimball’s movements contrasted strongly with those of his predecessors; they consisted nowof a stone-throwing gesture delivered on tiptoe, then of a descending movement, as